Blurring The Lines
by XSpike4evaX
Summary: Harry contemplates his new obsession: Draco Malfoy.


Blurring The Lines

"Anyone coming for lunch?" Harry Potter asked.

Ron stood up. "Count me in mate, I'm starving."

Hermione glanced up from the book she was reading. "Is it lunch time already? This morning has flown by."

"Hum, are you coming then?" Harry shifted on the spot impatiently.

Ron patted his stomach. "I hope they serve sausage today, I'm really in the mood for sausage and mash."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled her fuzzy hair back into a band. "I suppose I can finish this when I get back." Crossing to the bottom of the stairs leading up to the girls dormitory she shouted, "Ginny! Hey, Ginny you up there? Are you coming for lunch?"

Harry sighed heavily and ran a hand through his messy black hair. "Oh come on, she can catch us up, can't she?"

"What's the matter with you?" Ro's eyebrows lifted slightly. "You're never in such a hurry to get to lunch, that's my job."

"Nothing, I just want to get to the Great Hall, I'm hungry that's all," Harry snapped defensively.

"All right, calm down, I was only joking." Ron held his hands up as a sign of surrender and studied his friends annoyed face thoughtfully, Harry had been acting strange lately.

Hands on his hips Harry glared at Hermione's back. "She's had long enough, she's obviously not up there, let's go."

Shrugging Hermione agreed and fell into step beside Ron as they followed Harry out of the common room. Once through the portrait Harry picked up his pace and practically power walked down to the Hall with Ron and Hermione hurrying to keep up with him.

Harry's arms pumped away at his side as he strode purposefully down the corridors; he had to restrain himself from taking the stairs two at a time. Why was everyone being slow today? He sighed heavily when he realised he was quite a way ahead of Ron and Hermione who were now talking to Ernie McMillan from Hufflepuff.

He didn't have time to stand around talking to people, he had to get to lunch. "Why is it whenever you're in a hurry everyone is in your way?" He muttered to himself as he weaved amongst the straggling students on their way to the Great Hall.

Arriving in the doorway Harry's emerald green eyes scanned the room quickly. He spotted the person he was looking for and made his way to the Gryffindor table; being careful to choose a seat that would allow him a good, although not obvious, view of the one person he loved to look at.

Seating himself halfway down the table Harry helped himself to pumpkin juice and spooned some chicken curry and rice onto his plate. He responded distractedly to the hello from Dean Thomas and was pleased when no-one else seemed to deem it necessary to speak to him.

Spearing a large chunk of chicken with his fork Harry's eyes lifted from his plate as he chewed thoughtfully. Just between the heads of some girl he didn't know and Gregory Goyle was the perfect view of Draco Malfoy.

Draco was listening to something Blaise Zabini was saying, he was nodding; a thoughtful look crossing his face. Clearly he was having difficulty with whatever it was Zabini was saying as creases were appearing in his forehead. Harry's lips twitched into an indulgent smile, he thought Draco looked cute when he was confused.

Draco's face smoothed out of it's wrinkles and he laughed suddenly, a pain stabbed somewhere in Harry's chest that he was not the source of Draco's good mood. His lips, those full lips that were usually sneering or smirking were now curled into a smile. They no longer looked hard and cruel, but soft and pleasant; as though only nice things ever came from those lips.

Harry wasn't totally sure when this obsession with Draco Malfoy had started, but it was very slowly taking over his life. Harry thought about Draco all the time. He had even gone so far as to wish he had been placed in Slytherin after all, then perhaps he could at least be friends with Draco.

Harry snorted at his own idiotic thoughts. Draco was never going to be his friend, even if he went grovelling on his hands and knees to him. Draco wouldn't want to know. It wasn't in a Malfoy's nature to give second chances.

Popping a forkful of rice into his mouth Harry watched as Draco's hand came up to absently touch the perfect hair style he was sporting. Always he wore his hair loose and floppy over his forehead, but it had to stay a certain way, Harry wondered if Draco used special gel or charms to ensure that his hair didn't move.

He liked Draco's Hair. The c olour was very unique, there was no-one else in school with platinum blonde hair. His hair always shone and looked silky smooth, Harry's fingers itched to touch it and find out if it really felt like spun silk; but of course he never attempted to touch Draco's hair, that would be extremely difficult to explain. He hoped Draco wouldn't grow his hair long like Lucius Malfoy did. Harry didn't like long hair on boys all that much; and such a different style might alter the look of Draco. Harry liked how Draco looked now.

There was so much about Draco Malfoy which absolutely fascinated him. Draco was like no other boy he had ever met. No-one else had an ego the size of Mount Everest, no-one else was so completely sure of their own superiority that they looked down on nearly everyone around them.

He was irritatingly confident and always so annoyingly sure of himself that it grated on Harry's nerves. But at the same time it was something he loved about Draco. Harry felt it gave him a certain charisma, and an air of indifference that was surprisingly attractive.

Harry himself was not confident in his ability to do anything other than play Quidditch. He knew he annoyed Hermione by not being more self confident about his school work, she knew he had the ability but he just didn't apply himself very well.

Draco however excelled at school work, he usually got very good marks; although he was not a favourite student except with Snape, he knew what he was doing.

The girl sitting in front of him moved a little and blocked his view of Draco. Harry scowled at the inconvenience and shifted a little in his seat to enable him to peer through the small gap and watch Draco again. He took a sip of juice and nodded absently at something Hermione was saying to him. Truth be told Harry hadn't even been aware Hermione and Ron had joined him at the table.

Draco was busy brushing something from his robes, he nodded at Goyle and a smug look crossed his face. Harry knew Goyle had now noticed Draco was wearing new robes and Draco was relishing the opportunity of talking about his wealth again. Harry knew Draco had new robes because he had never seen this particular set on him before; he knew Draco's wardrobe well, he even knew which set of robes were Draco's favourite because he spent so much time studying the other boy and analysing him.

He had noticed Draco usually wore dark colours or the green and sliver of Slytherin house. Draco was not a bright coloured person, but Harry figured bright wouldn't go with Draco's personality anyway. He was usually dark and the colours suited him; his hair stood out and his eyes drew you in even more.

Those grey eyes were what Harry loved most about Draco. They could be cold and hard a lot of the time, but sometimes he was able to see how Draco was really feeling when he looked at his eyes. When Draco let his guard down it was his eyes which were the most expressive. Harry loved the flash of quicksilver that showed Draco was happy and excited about something; the stormy grey bothered him as it told him Draco was sad and miserable and there was nothing Harry could do to make the problem go away. If he could, Harry would have liked to sit and examine Draco's eyes all day.

"Harry, is everything alright?" Hermione's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Harry looked over at her and smiled. "Yes, why?"

"Well, you were in such a hurry to come to lunch but you haven't eaten very much," she indicted his half full plate. "Are you feeling ill?"

"No, I'm fine, Hermione," Harry assured her, wishing she would shut up so he could go back to enjoying his time with Draco.

Hermione smiled back at him and proceeded to cut into her quiche. "We have double potions tomorrow morning, did you finish your essay, Ron?"

Ron nodded, unable to actually answer her with a mouthful of food.

"I never thought I'd miss Snape the way that I do," she continued. "Potions just isn't the same without him, Hogwarts isn't the same."

Ron finished eating and glanced around. "A lot of things at Hogwarts aren't the same anymore."

Harry blocked them out as they began to talk about the war. He returned his attention to Draco. A lot of people weren't the same after the war, Draco included. He was still his arrogant self of course, and he still insisted that purebloods were the best; but then Harry wouldn't want that to change. It was part of Draco's make up, it was who he was as much as his blonde hair and beautiful eyes. Harry wouldn't really want Draco to change too much.

Draco showed no remorse for his actions before the war or during. But Harry knew there was at least a speck of remorse hidden somewhere deep inside the young man sitting opposite him. Harry had been the one to see his nerves, his fear up on the roof the night Dumbledore died. Harry had been the one to see Draco in his connection to Voldemort's mind; he had seen the terror and disgust on his face when he had been forced to curse someone or suffer the curse himself.

Harry's lips twitched, despite what was whispered about him in the corridors at Hogwarts, Draco wasn't evil. He had been a scared and lonely boy in much the same way Harry had been at certain times of his life; but Harry would never let on he knew about it; he wouldn't tell anyone Draco was just as incapable of killing as Harry was. Harry grinned, he could just imagine the horror on Draco's face if he went around supporting him and saying he was all right really.

"More than all right," Harry muttered under his breath.

There was no-one like Draco Malfoy. He was beautiful in a cold and haughty way, he oozed class and good breeding and he had a very sexy little strut that Harry knew you absolutely had to be born with, it couldn't be learnt.

He always carried himself well, always wanting to be centre of attention and Harry had the idea Draco craved to be noticed; not liked exactly, but noticed. Draco wanted everyone to know him, to respect him as they did his father. He was continually boasting of the people he knew, the money he had and the power his family name wielded but he didn't need that with him; Harry already respected him.

Draco had been through a lot in the war as well and only he, Harry, knew it. He was the one who had been there and seen it. Draco had come out the other side and although he hadn't crawled out smelling of roses, he had still come through it and he had dealt with a lot in their sixth year all on his own. Even Harry would admit he'd had a lot of help and he'd had his friends to rely on for support; Draco had been alone and he had still done what had been expected of him.

Harry couldn't quite understand how he had ended up blurring the lines surrounding Draco so completely. All he knew was the hate he had always believed himself to feel for his Slytherin nemesis was gone; it had turned to love. It was a love that was so deep, so absolute, so extreme that he hadn't seen it coming.

Now Draco occupied his every thought. He observed him every chance he got, he tried to take any and every opportunity to speak with him even if it was just to exchange insults. He dreamt about Draco and he would spend time day dreaming about him. He wondered how those long, slim fingers would feel curled around his own, he wondered how those mesmerizing eyes would look when filled with passion; he wondered if his voice would go all husky and low when whispering love and nonsense into the ear of the one he loved.

They were all things he would continue to wonder about; these were not the kind of things he would ever get an answer to and that knowledge hurt more than Harry cared to admit to himself. It was extremely painful to know he was hopelessly in love with a boy who would never return those feelings; and yet he couldn't stop staring at the object of his affection, torturing himself with the unattainable.

Everyone experienced unrequited love at some stage in their lives, Harry guessed this was his time to feel it. He couldn't help being fascinated and mesmerised by Draco and he wouldn't try not to love him because it wouldn't work; it would only make his love grow even deeper so he had decided a long time ago to just accept it.

"What are you looking at, Granger?" Draco's cold voice carried across to the Gryffindor table, his lip was curled into a sneer and his eyes were hard as he looked at Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Sod off ferret boy," Ron snapped angrily. "After we saved his life twice in one night you'd think he'd at least be polite to us. No pleasing the snobby git."

He tuned out of their conversation again and lifted his eyes to Draco's face. Draco looked livid, a flash of colour stained his cheeks and his eyes were glowing like a tiny flame. 

Draco stood up and stalked from the Great Hall his robes billowing about his legs.

Harry sighed softly, how could he have thought he hated this boy? Hate was so far from it these days it was laughable.

Considering thoughtfully Harry smiled as he came up with the answer to his question. He spoke quietly to Draco's retreating back. "I guess hate is only love that has missed it's way."


End file.
